


Freshman

by Squishcat



Category: All Time Low, Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Bandom - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Frerard, M/M, Marching Band, Other, Tumblr Prompt, my chemical romance - Freeform, prompt, thank you, will update tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:45:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishcat/pseuds/Squishcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marching and concert band AU's</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like this, I took time off writing for a while (because I didn't really know what to write) for marching band and thought "Why not write about the thing that makes me too tired to write? Why not write about one of the things I love?" Anyways I'm officially back. I've gone on long enough, enjoy!

  Ah yes, another day of fundamentals, and various run throughs of the same sets, completing drill sets, finishing off the whole second movement. You're so tired you can barely even hold your case so you switch it to your left arm and carry your thermos in the other.

  You've decided that going over bricks and an up-slope of dried grass is much easier than going up sets of stairs or the long way by going through the cement railed slope. You cannot believe that you actually wanted to pursue this, and the fact that you actually look forward to do this for the next 4 years of your life. It's Wednesday so you have sectionals while others have full band practice. It's funny though, when it's horn sectionals you hate having to stand for a whole extra hour or two but in sectionals you hate having to sit with that painful posture.

  The cold air from the main hall hits you and you let out large breath, stepping in from the hot sun hurts. Lazily, you walk yourself over to the first instrument room and put your case away then proceed to take out the silver trumpet within and a folder of music. You adjust the berp on the side and as you're about to walk out of the lining of shelves, Pete, baritone saxophone and renowned fuckboy, Wentz says “Fight me, Frank,” you laugh at the ridiculous hair flip he does and continue walking past the office and into the trumpet & horn room.

  After getting through the music and sectionals were over you were sent out into the main hall to join everyone else. After he shifts spots with another freshman he's next to you and that's how things usually are. He's next to you and encourages you to play louder, stronger. Just last week he was calling people dirty cunts because “Those that stand at the beginning of the line get the first parts” while they passed out stand tunes. He's hilarious, you could go on and on about how hilarious he is. After practice is over you have about an hour to eat and Ray gives you one of his sandwiches and that's all you eat. Probably not the best idea since you almost fell over like three times adjusting to one dot and had the main director ask if you were okay over the speaker like three times finishing with “I thought you were having a moment” you have no idea what that means though.

  After awkwardly hanging out in the uniform room writing step offs onto your music, you get your instrument out again and head towards the room.

  You awkwardly push a pinkish colored chair to your usual spot next to the fridge. You mainly sit there because Gerard sits there most of the time. You noticed his thermos was next to the chair and you scooted his bag further into the corner where it was. Throwing your red folder onto the chair and set your instrument down carefully before walking out of the room to get a stand.

  Finding a decent stand that didn't wobble much or completely fall over wasn't too hard, miracle. Gerard came out of the instrument room as you were about to walk out with the miracle stand and you paused mid-step to listen to him speak,”Is the there stands in the room?” “Uh no.” “Thanks”

  Conversation between the two of you wasn't much to brag about but these last few months have really gotten your feels kicking.

  You head on and set your stand in the room, pushing your chair back against the wall, hoping you'd be able to hide your bad posture behind someone else.

  You catch glimpses of Gerard and he thinks you need help during the second studies and says you can look at his pages. You tell him no thanks and look over at his music anyway, It's got pink and orange high lighter marks over the sharps and flats, quite messily though. A post-high school trumpet player attempting to major in music comes and helps during this time by taking people out and working our pieces with them. He came in after scales and took Gerard and a sophomore. During the time they were out, you did nothing but play haphazardly, Gerard wasn't here so there wasn't anyone to impress.

 When they came back into the room he took his seat and joined in right before the play through of the fast piece.Of course now you're playing to impress, you look over at him quite a few times.

  With every glimpse you get peeks of his brows furrowing, causing creases, the way his shoulders and torso swayed and danced with the beat. His breaths were quick and sharp, while yours were long. You know you'd never own up to him, but he's just so great. You admire him, he's quick and fast, his playing is smooth. He's always the first to volunteer to play an excerpt, you're not sure if it's to show off or not but he's always up for game.

  When the run through of the piece was over, he leaned to the side, towards you, and smiled before whispering, “I want to know what you’re thinking about when you look at me like that.” You gawk silently for a few seconds before answering.

  “What do you mean? Like what?” He chuckles and leans back away again, “like that, the way you're looking at me right now, the way you always look at me.” You sit in your seat silently, your face red no doubt, practice finished and the only senior was assigned to warm you all down. After 7 notes held for 16 counts each with additional pedal notes you were dismissed and as soon as you were you gathered your music and left quickly.

  Entering the instrument room you put away your instrument and folder and shutting the gold latches. You turn and take a step towards the door when you bump into someone. Him... Oh, you were trying to avoid him. “Careful, freshman.”

  His hands were placed right under your shoulders with a light hold, he was your balance as you almost stumbled back. The way he said freshman, with a smirk and the stretch on it. He breaks through your thoughts when he chuckles softly, “You know, you never answered my question."

  You direct your gaze towards the dirty floor tiles. He shifts and you can't help but look up to see his new position. He's staring down at you and your eyes lock, his legs are straight and his black stringy hair is partly behind his ears. “That look right there, the one you're giving me now. The one you always look at me with.” “I... uh uhm... I can't.... Uh I can't do this n-” Someone cuts you off by shoving their shoulder past yours and out the door, your gaze breaks from Gerard's and suddenly you remember you're in a crowded room the with of a hall full of people eager to leave. You can feel people watching quietly from their cubbys.

  “I'm sorry, I have to go,” you pull away from his grasp and as you walk towards the door you miss his light grip on your arms, your arms cross and hands are placed were his own were, fingers ghosting over the previous ones.

 


	2. Fuckery Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trumpet!Frank/Trombone!Jack  
> Thanks to obsessedlilshit for the idea!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little different so bear with me...

Finally, practice is over. After warming down you rush up hill into the band hall to put your instrument away. You're so tired, your leg feels like it's going to burst. No, correction, your langle is about to burst, that part at the bottom of your leg right above your ankle. Fuck, it's swollen, you place your trumpet in it's case and pull down your green sock, there are no bites or cuts, it just hurts... There is no indication of any bruising it's just painful.  
You sigh, grab your things, and follow Ray onto your bus, he sits in the middle and you sit in the back this time, rather than your usual spot at the front. Jack, your ex, sits near you with Alex and Joe (FOB). He's telling you and them about how his rehab session went and how he's completely over his ex, Patrick, and you jokingly ask, “What about his thighs?” To which he responds with completely over. You take the straw you've been mindlessly chewing on, “Jack lend me your wrist.” You extend your hand and he places his in it. The straw is placed to his wrist and you suck twice before he pulls away. “If you're going to suck something, suck something else.”   
–  
You wake up in the morning to get ready for morning rehearsal but curl back onto the bed momentarily and pull the covers over your shoulders. The peaceful quiet and the feeling of the cold nipping at your previously exposed limbs lasts only a while before last night crawls into your mind.  
–  
It was only a while after you'd gotten off the bus and texted Jack, He asked of you not to tell Patrick he was over him because he was going to try to fix things with him. You mean, maybe he'd be happier with you if you didn't fuck around with everyone, including Joe and Karlen (kid on the AP/AB cover album). You don't tell him that of course, but you do keep your word on not telling Patrick, after all Jack has been one of your closest friends even after 6th grade... The next text was expected, “So... the blow job” on the bus you'd been joking about going to the back since no one was there but of course Alex would know since he heard so you played it off as a joke. “I mean like... I guess.” Something you picked up from him and another friend. The conversation keeps on with “I thought you were joking on the bus though” - “I thought you were joking too” eventually plans were made to go to the back of the F building, your bus gets there at like 6:30 and like four or five people go on the bus, six at the most, so nobody would question your absence. He said he'd come earlier, “can't wait”  
–  
You're on the bus, nice, quiet, calm, and cold. Calm until the bus turns into the school, you live close by it's never been a long ride. Recently, the bus driver skipped doing a turn since no one got on at the stop so the ride was quite short. It seemed to get shorter, when the bus passed the gate your throat tightened up and your breath got heavy, the turns the bus took to get to the loading area -drop-off for band- felt long, everything was slow. Getting off the bus you notice Jack isn't sitting at the bench he usually does when he arrives early. You walk in, because miraculously the doors were unlocked for once, and greet Patrick as he wanders off with Andy to assemble their instruments. Jack walks out of the guys restroom although the lights are off. You walk towards the instrument rooms and Issac follows through the other door. After setting your things down into “your” empty cuby, the one you share with Ray and Ryan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make this a little thing where my marching band AU's reside, I'll still update them on their own like "Freshman (the original) Part Two" Hope you like this new thing and thank you for being patient!!!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked or enjoyed this please leave a comment if you'd like to see more, kudos are appreciated.  
> “I want to know what you're thinking about when you look at me like that.”  
> Prompt #346 submitted by becketts-one-and-done.tumblr.com on writers-are-writers.tumblr.com


End file.
